


39th Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [39]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Docking, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hypnotism, M/M, Orcs, Oviposition, Pegging, Rape Aftermath, Rimming, Stink Kink, Trust, Voyeurism, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26336437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 McCree/Hanzo | ch.2 Reaper/Sombra | ch.3 Lúcio/Orcs; Lúcio/Akande/Gabriel | ch.4 McCree/Hanzo; Shimadacest | ch.5 Torbjörn/Ingrid | ch.6 Shimadacest | ch.7 Shimadacest | ch.8 Bruce/Jason | ch.9 Shane/Eggs | ch.10 Hank/Connor | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.12 Shane/Charlie
Relationships: Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Hank Anderson/Connor, Hanzo Shimada/Sojiro Shimada, Ingrid Lindholm/Torbjörn Lindholm, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Series: Fic Batches [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 2
Kudos: 117





	1. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – aftermath of Hanzo being the Deadlock whore; no sex; trust building – Jesse has issues where there are none.
> 
> Prequel: B38F3  
> Sequel: B40F1

Hanzo is as pretty as they come, but after a month or two of looking at his filthy beard only getting longer and more scraggly, Jesse has to admit that it really would be better if he got to cut it.

Thing is, he still doesn’t have the gut to put his fingers anywhere near those sharp teeth.

It’s an irrational fear – he thinks… he… hopes… – but one that he just can’t shake off. The guys in the Gorge had been very colorful whenever talking about what mean bitches like Hanzo could do to a man with those teeth of theirs. Jesse is not too proud to admit that that shit is still stuck in the back of his head.

Hanzo’s been allowed to roam the little shack in the desert all on his own. He’s had plenty of time to flee or bite through Jesse’s throat if he had any intention to. He’s not done any of that… yet.

_You’re an idiot, McCree_ , he thinks as he sits in the shade thrown by the shack, watching Hanzo tend to the animals. He slowly puffs one of his cigars. _Li’l critter has a damn fine life. Got a few babes to take care of and a full belly while he does so. All he gotta do is spread ‘em thighs every now and then. Not bad a life at all. Why’d he hate ya?_

He talks himself into it and psyches himself out again a million times over before the issue is taken out of his hand entirely.

One morning, as he is leaning close to the grimy mirror he got in a corner of the house that he generously calls ‘bathroom’, shaving kit laid out in front of him, he sees something vaguely moving in the surface.

He stares at it, brain lagging behind for a moment, wondering what it is. Suddenly he becomes very aware of two surprisingly sharp eyes reflected back at him, and jerks back on his stool, nearly toppling to the floor.

“Jesus!” he hisses as his heart beats a frantic tattoo against his ribcage. He turns to stare at Hanzo who just stands there, watching him quietly with those same sharp eyes. “Could give a man a heart attack.”

Jesse slowly rubs at his slightly aching chest while he looks Hanzo up and down. He stands there with his hands in front of him, like he usually does. He looks both like a prisoner and a child, weirdly enough.

“What is it?” he asks a bit sharper than intended when Hanzo does nothing but stare at him. It’s one of the few things he despises; those unnervingly intelligent eyes following his every move.

Hanzo stares at him for a moment longer before he glances down at the shaving kid spread out on the rickety little table that McCree has balanced the grimy mirror on.

Jesse follows his gaze and stares at it. Nervousness slowly fills his gut like a water balloon.

“Ya want a shave?” he asks slowly. Hanzo nods and advances on him. Before Jesse can say anything, he has a surprisingly heavy man in his lap, hands on his lap, waiting patiently to be serviced.

McCree drags his palm over his own still unkempt chin, the balloon in his guts so big it is shivering as if waiting to burst any second. When Hanzo just keeps calmly staring back at him, though, he curses softly under his breath and has him stand back up.

“Oh what the Hell… alright, alright. Jus’... I can’t shave ya like this. Let me get up and sit down here. Yeah… an’ don’t move.”

Hanzo doesn’t. The whole time over Jesse isn’t even sure he’s blinked. The li’l critter sits perfectly still, barely breathing as McCree takes up the clippers and starts getting to work.

He has to admit he’s… careful at first. He tries to awkwardly curl his fingers so he doesn’t get the tips close to Hanzo’s mouth, but that is cumbersome at best. He’s not a very dexterous man at the best of times. His fingers are thick and the clippers are small. When Hanzo stares at him like he’s lost his goddamn mind, Jesse takes a deep breath.

“Yeah… yeah, alright. Damn.”

His fingers don’t tremble when he carefully trims the whiskers at the corners of Hanzo’s mouth, but the balloon in his belly feels closer than ever to bursting and sending a warm wash of water down his legs.

Nothing happens. Hanzo sits still, his mouth a relaxed line. He neither smiles nor frowns, nor licks his lips as he sits there and lets Jesse… ah… service him.

_Clever little bitch_ , Jesse can’t help but think, reluctantly impressed.

When he has everything shortened to a degree that he can properly work with, he stands back and stares at Hanzo with a frown. He can only vaguely remember what his beard has been like when they’ve got their hands on the princeling.

As he wonders what to do with him now, he becomes aware of Hanzo staring back at him.

He never has reached out to Jesse and touched him; his looks are usually more than enough to convey what he wants. Jesse stares back at him, then at the utensils spread out in front of Hanzo.

“Ya wanna do it yerself?” he asks haltingly after a moment. Giving a Yakuza heir something sharp into his hands seems ill-advised but… Hanzo has had ample opportunity to kill him.

So when Hanzo slowly, deliberately nods – as if Jesse is the imbecile here – McCree sighs and drags his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah… alright. Damn. Take yer time.”

.o.

Later that day Jesse sits outside with Hanzo’s head in his lap to scritch behind his ears like a dog. Hanzo’s eyes are only slits as he stares out into the desert, thinking his own, quiet thoughts. Jesse wonders what goes through that head of his.

Every now and then, McCree lets his thick fingertips wander down to lightly touch Hanzo’s chin and pet across the silky patch of his well-groomed goatee. There’s a lot more grey in it than had been when they acquired the li’l critter.

A lot more in it than a guy of Hanzo’s age should have, probably.

He’s as damn handsome as they come, though, and no bite has been delivered yet. His mouth remains closed and relaxed.

When he’d been done with his shave, he had put the razor down without needing to be prompted.

“Ye’re a good boy… you know that?” Jesse mutters after a few hours when the sun is already mostly gone down and the animals have trotted into the ramshackle barn they are constantly working on.

Hanzo slowly opens his eyes and mutely looks up at him in the descending darkness.

Jesse’s thumb moves against the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. He can feel it slightly moving, but can’t see what he might have done.

There’s no pain, though, so Jesse leans back with a deep sigh and closes his eyes, fingertip slowly sliding along the seam of Hanzo’s lips as he drawls: “Yeah… a damn fine boy you are.”


	2. Reaper/Sombra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Sombra – dom!reaper; sub!sombra; desperation; crying; acceptance – Sombra is a brat – as so often – and Reaper decides to be the bigger man and give her what she needs.
> 
> Sequel: B40F7

Sombra has waited for so long that when Reaper sits down only to drag out a dusty – physical! – novel, she could scream in frustration. It had been difficult enough to get into his rooms without him noticing. Couldn’t he be doing something… something more _exciting_?

Something _naughty_?

She chews on his bottom lip, looking him up and down. He’s sprawled on the chair like a feast, still in full regalia, legs sloppily spread and showing off the fat bulge of his cock. It’s as distracting now as it is out on the field. Oh, how often she’s wanted to hack him and pull him into a side room to cram her throat with dick while the others did all the dirty work…

Reaper shifts slightly, the chair beneath him creaking under his weight. For some reason that is insanely erotic. He’s such a… such a _hunk_. A pure wall of muscle that could grab her and snap her in half, and she would probably say please and thank you like a good little girl.

Sombra shifts a little closer. What kind of book would someone like Reaper even read?

The moment she comes within reach, his arm suddenly jerks out to the side, grabbing her by the throat with an unerring accuracy that has her belly ache and her pussy pulse despite – or maybe because of…? – the fact that he is choking her, the razor sharp tips of his claws digging into her neck just shy of nicking skin.

Reaper closes the book and puts it on the table, then turns his bone white mask to her and just quietly stares until Sombra gives in and shuts her cloaking device off.

“H-Hola…” she croaks. She tries to be cool about it, but his stare is as unnerving as it is hot. She squeezes her thighs together subtly, trying to take some of the edge off. His head moves minimally; she gets the impression that he is looking her up and down.

“I do not like you snooping around my rooms. If you want cock, just say so. These Elementary school tactics are tiring.”

Sombra swallows against his palm, indignation flaring as fast as it puffs out of existence again. She can feel herself flushing from her belly up.

Reaper keeps staring at her quietly, then reaches out with his other hand and rips without a moment to pause and reconsider, her pretty singlet straight down the middle.

She can feel her tits spill out from the fabric, her front suddenly cool and very exposed.

Reaper only hums thoughtfully and stands up from his slouch. He’s so goddamn _tall_ -

“You will do.”

What was that supposed to mean?!

.o.

Sombra has thought about this moment thousands of times; lying in her bed or sitting in front of her monitors, desperately fucking herself on a toy or rounding her painfully swollen clit with quick, mean fingers.

Now that she is getting filled with his dick, she realizes that her fantasies have been as laughable as they have been sad.

Reaper has her pinned to the surface of the desk with a hand still around her throat, not letting her _look_ as he slowly pushes a cock the size of a beer can inside her poor little cunt.

It only feels that much bigger since she can’t watch as it is happening. Her legs spasm, all noise swallowed up as she stares up into his masked face hovering above her.

“Is it everything you ever hoped?” he croons suddenly. She would never have pegged him as the talky type, but her brain feels too frizzed to actually make a remark about it. The pitch black eyeholes of his mask seem to be staring right down to her soul.

His wide body forces her legs further apart until her abdomen is just a throbbing, dull ache that spreads through her body yet strangely focuses at the same time on her poor, overwhelmed pussy.

“Whenever you were alone, playing with that baby pussy you got… thinking about me throwing you down and putting you in your goddamn place…”

She goes very still, heat and cold washing through her body in waves. She must have gone a bit pale beneath her dark skin because he chuckles that low ethereal laugh he has. The one that she thinks is incredibly goofy – and stupidly hot.

“Got it in one, huh?” he croons and ruts forward, cramming just a bit more of his cock inside her.

Sombra gurgles, one leg kicking out impotently. If only she could _see_ …!

“I tell you how this is going to play out from now on.” He moves his hips slightly; just fucking her on what have to be a few centimeters on his bull cock but feel like so so so much more. Her abdomen is on fire. She is absolutely _sure_ he has to knock against her cervix any second now, and the thought is as scary as it is exhilarating. She barely can focus on what he is saying.

He does not sound angry about her breaking into his rooms, in any case. In fact, he sounds calmer than she has ever heard him. It makes her think that this is not some kind of punishment fuck. Not some kind of hate fuck.

It certainly doesn’t feel that way, at least. Even though he seems hellbent on filling her with cock until she can taste it in the back of her throat.

“You’re a goddamn brat. And nobody has ever shown you your boundaries.” He very slowly lets go off her throat, and she coughs and rubs it carefully with one hand. He reaches down and pinches one fat nipple expertly with his claws, pulling until tears shoot into her eyes and she whines.

“I will do it.”

“W-what?” she whimpers. She tries to get up on her elbows and see that fat super soldier cock, but he pushes her back down unceremoniously.

“I will take care of you. Obey, and I will make sure you are… compensated for the time and effort you _will_ put into this.”

Sombra stares at him. He is still filling her cunt. Her belly. Her whole body. And he is still tormenting her tits, palming one of them and rubbing the fat nipple against his palm until she feels blitzed and brain dead; just one big live wire nerve that spasms obediently with every little movement of his body.

“P-Please-”

She doesn’t know where the word has come from. It must have been the correct thing to say because Reaper chuckles and leans over her, blanketing her with his massive body while his hips pick up speed. He is railing her, and all she can do is hold on to his clothes desperately and try not to choke on her own goddamn tongue.

She’s going to piss herself before she comes, she thinks. She’s never been fucked like this before. This is… all encompassing. Impossible. Too big for life.

He pumps her full with dick, then pulls out and leaves her feel gutted before filling her all over again.

“Shhhh… no crying… everything is going to be fine now…” His cool claws gently wipe at her temples. She hadn’t even realized she’s started bawling like a damn child. She can’t stop it, too. Everything is just too much!

“You won’t come today,” he tells her calmly; like he’s not affected at all by her body wrapped around him hot and slick like a fleshlight. It’s as humbling as it is exciting. She’s never felt like having to _prove_ herself like this.

“I will use you and dump my load into you. You won’t come. Not today. Not tomorrow. You will only do it when I deem it the right moment. Have you understood? You will be my cum dump, little lady.

...What do cum dumps say?”

She relaxes beneath him, eyes rolling up into her head as she closes her heavy lids. Oh, it becomes much easier when she just accepts the dump truck fucking and lets him do what he wants. Not going to get to come rankles, but she’s too stupid right now to really think about it.

All she can do is try to appease him.

“Tha… thank you…”

“Hmmmmnn… very good.”


	3. Lúcio/Orcs; Lúcio/Akande/Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Orc; Lúcio/Gabriel/Akande – demigod!Lúcio; warrior!Akande; strategist!Gabriel; Orc OC; revenge sex? kind of? – Lúcio is done with his siblings and just needs to let off some steam. Good thing that his brother mostly has Orc servants and they are So Fucking Hot.
> 
> Prequel: B35F6

The festivities have only been going on for three days, and Lúcio is already tired of the presence of his brothers and sisters.

Their well-meaning but ill-advised counsel has been a thorn in his side even before their immediate proximity.

_A God should not play with their servants, Lúcio. Not at your age. You should have grown out of it a century ago._

_They are beneath your stand, little brother. Surely you know it._

_At least grace one of them with your attention. We can’t be crowning two, now, can we?_

As they still wine and dine in Lúcio’s opulent hall, he has pulled himself away into the inner recesses of his sanctuary to be blessedly alone.

Ever at his back are his Lord Strategist and Lord Warrior. Their presence, usually a source of great comfort and amusement to him, is grating on his nerves this time. They have just stood in the back, stoic as rocks, not moving a muscle as his brothers and sisters have teared into them.

If only they would speak up. If only they would grab him and throw him down and…

No. No, this is not what he wants. What he wants is to just grab _them_ and…

Lúcio growls, standing and grabbing at his head. He presses until the invaluable diamonds and trinkets woven into his hair almost cut into his palms. It calms him and clears his head somewhat.

His brothers and sisters always have had a way to go under his skin. He should not let them get to him like that. He loves being worshipped by those that want medical guidance. He loves being free and having his fun.

It is not his problem that his siblings are unfulfilled with their worshippers and duties.

Akande and Gabriel are hovering behind him. Close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off their large, muscular bodies. But his gaze, when he opens his eyes again and lowers his hands to his sides, lands on one of his older brother’s servants standing watch in front of a door.

A huge Orc with muscles even more lewdly bulging than Akande’s. He is wearing naught but a loin cloth and fine ropes wrapped around biceps as big as Lúcio’s head, small bones and colorful rocks dangling from them.

Lúcio smiles slowly. He will do very nicely.

He extends his arm and beckons the warrior closer.

“You. What is your name?”

The Orc looks adorably unsure. He moves his jaw slowly, making Lúcio stare at his thick lips. At the massive tusks capped by beautiful silver.

“Grummuk. My liege.” The rough, low voice seems to light up Lúcio’s whole body. His smile widens and he curls his hand around three of Grummuk’s thick fingers.

“Come. I wish to indulge in you.” He glances back at his Lords, standing ramrod straight and staring ahead. They are as impassable as they have been in the dining hall, but he can tell that they are displeased.

His smile widens.

.o.

Grummuk is… surprisingly delicious. There is coarse, curled hair running down his front and somewhat softening the unforgiving planes of his thick muscles. Lúcio can’t stop running his hands over his pecs and rubbing his cheek in their wake until his skin tingles and feels impossibly tender.

Even before he gets down between the coltishly trembling, massive thighs has Grummuk’s cock lifted the front of the loincloth lewdly.

Gabriel and Akande are in a corner of the room, watching with ill-concealed jealousy as Lúcio plays with a new toy in his frustration.

The cock he slips out of the fabric is as thick as his forearm. Veiny. Fever hot to his greedily grasping fingers. Lúcio, kneeling in front of him and staring up at the warrior, feels even more powerful than he is.

“My brother does not let you… indulge very often, does he?” He pulls down on the thick shaft, exposing Grummuk’s crown.

It is a darker shade of green than the rest of his skin, but looks just as delicious as Akande’s or Gabriel’s. A cock just as much in need of attention and love as any other cock Lúcio has had slip between his fingers. Between his lips. Between his legs.

The thought of cramming this Orc’s cock into his belly makes him shudder.

Grummuk is staring at him, dark eyes unwavering. Lúcio has heard Orcs’ intelligence was somewhat lacking, but this one seemed to be impossibly loyal at least. He wisely did not answer one way or another.

Gently, Lúcio cups the heavy sack that had slipped out of the loincloth without much urging. The testicles are as large as his fists, pulling the skin around the base of Grummuk’s cock taut.

He glances up as he leans in, mouth opening slowly, hot breath fanning over the wide crown… then stops and smiles at the Orc. He has his fists at his sides, clenched tight like he is fighting against the urge to throw Lúcio down and fuck him from either end until he can’t do anything but taste the thick Orc cum he _will_ be filled with tonight.

Good.

“You know how to fuck, Grummuk. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Grummuk immediately grunts; his muscles are trembling. He needs it so badly, the poor thing… “Yes, my liege.”

Lúcio slowly stands up. He is hilariously small compared to all those huge brutes currently occupying these rooms – and he _loves_ it.

“Watch me.”

Grummuk does… and so do Akande and Gabriel. All eyes are on Lúcio as he slowly divests himself of his tunic and undergarments, revealing his silky dark skin inch by inch. He revels in the attention. The knowledge that he can wrestle any of the three to the ground and make them beg for mercy.

“Stand,” he orders the Orc warrior. Grummuk lifts as if pulled by strings. He has not once glanced at the two Lords watching the spectacle. He only has eyes for Lúcio. Oh, how well-trained he is…

His massive cock is bobbing in front of him, tongue occasionally coming out to lick at his thick tusks. Lúcio wants to kiss his broad, sensual mouth. He thinks that is an experience he definitely wants to have before the festivities eventually end.

But for now, he wants to be filled. Fucked. Brutalized by this massive Orc cock.

He kneels on the bed on all fours, then glances over his shoulder at Grummuk and his downright aggressive looking erection.

“Fuck me.”

.o.

Grummuk has not lied.

He knows how to fuck.

Lúcio can barely string two thoughts together as he is being railed, one ankle held in one of Grummuk’s huge fists – gentle as to not snap a bone – and gets his belly filled by the heaviest, fattest dick he has had yet.

… And all of that beneath the burning gazes of his Lords, fuming like stallions in the corner of the room, barely able to hold on to them as Lúcio sings his praises, gurgling into the bedding, goosebumps violently wrecking his body while his hole is getting spread impossibly wide.

Grummuk brings something so purely… animalistic to the table. The only thing comparable has been Gabriel’s desperate, anger filled fuck on the gory battle field.

Grummuk grunts his thrusts right down into Lúcio’s belly, using his muscles to push in as deep as he can, his fist sized testicles swinging against Lúcio’s smaller, tighter ones.

At one point he’s started babbling; promising Grummuk piercings and jewelry; gorgeous, sturdy chains to attach to all the new metal he wants to put into his body. Ornate rings to slip over his shaft so he can show his magnificent cock any day every day.

He doesn’t know if Grummuk even listens to him. He seems completely focused on fucking Lúcio across the bed until he has to brace himself against the wall, holding on for dear life until the storm has swept over him.

The burning jealousy of the Lords only feeds into the frenzy.

Oh… he feels so much better. He’s forgotten all about his vexing siblings...


	4. McCree/Hanzo; Hanzo/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo; McCree/Genji; Genji/Hanzo – hypnotism; non-con/dub-con; stink kink; sweat kink; armpit sniffing/licking – McCree tries to play with Hanzo alone but Genji is there and lets him know he’s not done the perfect crime like he thought he had.
> 
> Prequel: B37F6  
> Sequel: B40F6

Genji is surprised about McCree’s audacity these days. He seems to think with his little gadget he is untouchable. At least he can’t find another explanation for Jesse not even locking the locker rooms while molesting his brother.

Genji quietly stands in the shadows of one of the corners, watching in fascination as McCree sits his sweaty ass down on one of the benches and lifts his arms, airing his swampy pits with a self-assurance that reminds Genji fondly of his time back in Hanamura. When he still fucked anything and everything that looked remotely up his alley, and felt no shame about it.

The stench McCree exudes fills the space within moments. Genji inhales deeply, then has to put his palm over his mouth as to not gag.

Hanzo doesn’t have the same problems. He is standing there without his usual stiff posture; more like a marionette with its strings cut, dark eyes dull as he stares at Jesse. Waiting.

Genji vaguely remembers the curtain of blessed I-don’t-give-a-fuck draping itself over his thoughts, but more importantly he remembers the shit Jesse got up to with the two of them helpless and at his mercy.

Seems like the guy decided to use his scheduled training with Hanzo to get his frustrations out afterwards.

“Worship me,” the deep voice drawls. The little device is humming so soft behind him that it is easy to just blend out; especially when Hanzo wordlessly comes closer and straddles one of the cowboy’s thick thighs to eagerly stuff his face into one of his hairy armpits.

Genji watches, horrified and… aroused, as Hanzo snuggles his cheeks against the wet hair as if he were a kitten rubbing up against a few knuckles.

McCree groans deep. He lowers his other arm and puts a hand on the back of Hanzo’s head. It looks like he has to put an effort into not getting bowled over by Hanzo greedily sniffing, and then licking at his sweaty pit.

“Shit, babydoll… yeah… yeah, that’s it… damn…” His voice is shot as he croons praise to Hanzo that Genji is suitably sure doesn’t even penetrate the thick fog that has descended over his older brother.

Hanzo goes at it like a pig. Genji thinks he can even hear him grunt a few times as he laps at the salty sweat, then moves over McCree’s hirsute chest. He generously sucks the cowboy’s nipples into his mouth and lets them pop back out with lewd smacks that hit Genji deep.

When Hanzo stuffs his face into the other stinking pit, he just has to step out of his hiding place.

McCree doesn’t notice him, until he slowly rounds them, though. The cowboy gapes, then jerks in an aborted upright motion. Hanzo is on him like a cat in heat, pressing him down, hips humping to drag his erection against the rock hard top of McCree’s thigh.

Genji lifts his hand. He has had his visor off, but now he takes off his helmet as well, eyes glassy with fever as he stares down at McCree getting serviced by an out-of-it Hanzo.

“Don’t worry. I know about it all, McCree.”

Jesse blinks slowly. Genji can see that he is trying very hard not to look towards the little device humming away next to him. Genji can feel that he wants to listen to the hypnotic pull as well… maybe it is easier for his body to fall back into the draw of the little machine since it already had him deeply under once.

“What do ya mean?” Jesse asks, then winces immediately afterwards, knowing that playing dumb won’t work. He clears his throat and rasps: “Hanzo sto-”

“No… don’t make him stop. It’s okay…” Genji comes closer slowly, eyes stuck on the sight of his brother licking McCree’s sweaty armpit with a gusto that is shocking. Especially given how McCree is absolutely _reeking_. Genji’s heart is pumping fast, knees feeling a bit weak. He sits down heavily next to them so he can see up close how slack Hanzo’s face is. He looks like a… like a brain dead bimbo. Just because of that ingenious little device McCree got from who knew where.

“O… Okay?” Jesse rasps. Hanzo is pulling away from his pit. His face is wet with McCree’s workout sweat but he does not look like he either is aware of it or cares much at all. As they watch, he crawls down the thick cowboy body and nestles himself between McCree’s strong thighs to curl his fingers into the elastic of his shorts – dark with sweat in the crotch area – and pull them down without hesitation.

McCree’s bush is… awe inspiring. Genji stares at it. He remembers it well… being up close to it a few weeks ago. Kneeling next to Hanzo and lapping at the ruddy cock like he’s been starving for it…

Hanzo pushes his glistening face between McCree’s dick and his sack. He lets the heavy shaft rest on his face while he goes to town trying to suck one of the swollen nuts into his mouth.

McCree hisses, fingers curling around the edge of the bench. He is staring between Hanzo and Genji, his confusion obvious.

“I… uh…”

“I remember. What you did.” Genji murmurs. He finally lifts his gaze to stare at Jesse. His thick body odor is tickling his gag reflex and gets his blood pumping.

McCree doesn’t answer but he seems to stop breathing for a moment. Genji leans in, pressing his mouth against one ear flushed hot.

“I got a proposal…” He reaches down, curling his hand around McCree’s ruddy beer can dick and manipulating the silky foreskin down until his glistening glans is right there. There’s an interesting round scar at the top that makes him wonder if Jesse’s had a genital piercing once upon a time.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yes…” Hanzo is sucking balls like a pig. He really _is_ grunting now, snuffling, trying his hardest to suffocate himself in the stench of Jesse McCree’s unwashed junk. Jesse’s breath hitches, and Genji continues: “I thought it was hot… really, really hot… but I can promise you that Hanzo won’t think the same way.”

He gently bites Jesse’s earlobe and pulls on it, then continues in a low croon: “I want to eat your sweaty, swampy ass, McCree. I want to get in deep with my tongue and search until I can find your hole in midst of that thick bush you got growing right up into your crack.”

McCree is breathing again, sitting stiff like a good little soldier, listening to Genji’s lewd promises. It feels good to finally be a slut again. He’s really missed it… Zenyatta is good and sweet, but also so pure that he would feel weird about trying to make him be a little pervert.

“Hanzo can keep sucking your cock, I don’t mind… Maybe I can meet him at your taint…” He inhales deeply, moving around so he can whisper against the corner of his mouth: “I’ll do that for you, McCree. I’d even _like_ to do that for you… but I want something in return as well…”

“An’... an’ what do you want?” Jesse croaks. He sounds close to a heart attack, if Genji is honest.

“I want you to help me with that little gadget of yours…”

Genji inhales deeply.

“I want you to help me fuck my big brother.”


	5. Torbjörn/Ingrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torbjörn/Ingrid – rimming; fingering; pegging; wetting – Torbjörn and Ingrid getting nasty mmmhhh.

The last of their grandchildren tucked in, Ingrid sits on the side of the bed she shares with her husband and watches him putter through the room while muttering to himself. He always sounds angry about one thing or another, but she knows for a fact that he very much enjoyed every moment of today.

He loves spending time with the children.

“Sweetheart,” she croons. He pauses briefly in wrestling his shirt over his head, giving her a delicious view of his furry pits and hairy belly. His tits slightly jiggle with each movement as he wrests the garment off of his head.

Goodness, she could eat him whole.

He turns his head a little while brushing down his beard after ruffling it with the shirt, eying her with his one good eye, bushy brows pulled down as if angry.

Ingrid smiles sweetly at him. Oh… so he figured out that something was up? Hmmm doesn’t matter.

“I have a surprise for you,” she sing-songs. Under his unsure stare, she slowly starts to curl up her skirt. “Come here… have a look up close, why don’t you?”

As he obediently advances, she spreads her knees to allow his sturdy body between. Just as he is close enough, watching intently as her fingers move diligently to gather all the fabric, she finally lifts it all up to let him see her surprise: A flesh colored cock encased in her panties, the straps of the harness hugging her hips snug and tight.

It’s not the first time she presented him with his little friend of the night… but it does not go unnoticed to him that she must have been wearing it for a while.

A ruddy flush immediately starts to crawl up over the line of his beard. He starts to sputter, hand grabbing his beard and hectically brushing over it.

“Ingrid! That is… what if… the children…”

She chuckles and unbuttons the front of her dress, apron already thrown over the back of a chair.

“Oh, you’re so precious. You know nobody noticed. You sure didn’t, and you sneaked a few gropes, didn’t you?”

His head is practically glowing now while Ingrid smiles all calm, and nods to the bed at her back.

“Come now… get naked and I’ll make you feel good, yes, dear?”

.o.

The sight of him trembling in anticipation and on all fours has her pussy throbbing. She doesn’t think she has ever seen a more erotic view than her husband obediently waiting for her to molest him.

She kneels behind him, feeling up his stocky, muscled thighs, then palming the globes of his ass. Against her palms, his fur tickles. She teases herself just as much as him by starting to rub them all over his behind, his cheeks moving and sometimes giving a sweet glimpse at his furry, pink hole.

“You didn’t let anybody play with this cute little cunt you have, did you? Not without me knowing…”

She spreads his cheeks wide. He chokes on his own tongue but she couldn’t say if that is because of her lewd words or because he suddenly is so very exposed to her.

“N-No, dear… I… I always asked for permission first,” he says softly. She believes him instantly. Torbjörn doesn’t have a mean bone in his body – at least when it concerns his darling wife.

Ingrid hums. She leans down, delicately nosing the soft fur out of the way and helping along with her thumbs to unearth his hole and be able to gently tongue it.

Torbjörn jerks once, but otherwise stays put. She can listen to his deep breathing as he shuffles his stocky legs a little farther apart. His balls are hanging low, swinging against her chin every now and then as she pushes in deeper and harder. Greedy to wriggle her tongue into him and make him relax for her.

He tastes so good. He smells so good. He _feels_ so good. She can’t get enough of his warm, furry skin; the bulges of his muscles.

As Ingrid tongue fucks him, he keeps making choked off little sounds of pleasure, whining into a pillow he is hugging to his face.

When she pulls back, she watches how wet his crack has become, then gently slips him two fingers. He takes them like a champ despite his voice going all high and breathy. She doesn’t think any of his little friends know how sweet and infantile he can sound. The kinds of _noises_ she teases out of him just with a mean little crook of her fingers…

She finds his prostate easily, rounding it through the thin wall of his intestines, and watching his stocky back tremble. His cock is impossibly swollen, swinging between his thighs. Wetness is glinting at the tip of it, reminding her of something.

“Ah yes… just a moment, dear.” She kisses the small of his back. Listening to him trying to calm his breathing, she crawls off the bed and rummages around one of their wardrobes.

The plastic sheet crinkles. Torbjörn lifts his head and stares at her wide eyed, his lips wet and swollen in midst of his beard. Ingrid smiles patiently back at him.

“Don’t want to make too much of a mess, do we?” she murmurs. She puts a bit of bounce in her step to let the strap-on move and distract him as she spreads the plastic sheet, having him lift hands and knees in turns to slip it beneath him.

By the time she gets back behind him, Torbjörn is radiating an embarrassed heat that has her smile all fond. She slowly spreads lube over hier cock.

“More than thirty years of marriage… and you’re still so embarrassed about this,” she says with fond exasperation. “You know I enjoy having you pee yourself for me. You don’t need to feel bad about it.”

“Oh… oh, god…” he just whines in response. He is so cute…

His hole spreads so sweetly when she pushes on the cute little pout of it. Opens right up for her cock. His hips are broad and strong, something nice to hold on to while she rocks her way into his belly, zings of pleasure shooting down her legs when her clit gets nudged in turn, and the little nub inside her wriggles around.

“You’re so… you’re so delicious,” she gasps softly, long fingers slipping through the hair on the back of his neck. It’s easy to touch everything of him. To curl over his back and rub her tits against his shoulders or keep his ears warm.

She’s always enjoyed what a little thick package of pure _energy_ Torbjörn is.

He tries his best to remain nice and quiet now as she easily moves her hips, fucking him just as much as she is fucking herself.

He’s always thinking of the children… trying not to accidentally wake one of them by crying out his love for his wife’s various cocks.

Oh, she’ll put him through his paces tonight… she’ll drill him until he comes, sobbing, begging for mercy… and then she’ll fuck him through it… have him tremble until the over sensitivity ebbs and he can enjoy the long cock nudging against the hot walls of his intestines again.

She’ll bring him to a second orgasm. A third. She’ll fuck him until he tries to scramble away, honestly out of breath, pleading for a pause…

And she’ll keep giving it to him until he finally will loose it, hot piss splattering onto the plastic sheet, running around their knees and warming their toes.

Maybe she’ll make him lie in his own mess just to see him almost die of embarrassment… 

Or she’ll just take him into the bath and wash him down nice and gentle. Put a leg up on the toilet and have him dive right in, eating her out with gusto, thanking her whenever she lets him get up long enough to pull a breath.

Oh.. Oh, she loves him so much.


	6. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – Zoom verse – voyeurism/exhibitionism – Sojiro had given Genji a month... Safe to say he doesn’t manage to do it.
> 
> Prequel: B38F16  
> Sequel: B39F7

Genji knows for a fact that he has not made a single sound sneaking down the hallway after his outside trysts, but when the light in one of the rooms he passes suddenly clicks on he knows he got caught anyway.

Goddamn cameras and motion detectors all over the place. He rolls his shoulders, then cracks his neck and takes a deep breath to steel himself before opening the doors.

He takes one step in before the thick stench of sex and the sight right across the door has him nearly recoil out of the room again. First and foremost he sees Hanzo, yukata spread wide, just as his legs are, sitting on somebody’s lap.

That that somebody is their father only registers after a few seconds of complete silence when Sojiro leans over to lazily peek around his older son’s form.

It is not the head of the Shimadas that addresses him, though. It is Hanzo.

“Close the door.”

Genji stares at him, mouth agape, then jerks into action and turns to grab the door and quickly push it shut again. Sweat is springing up at the back of his neck prickling and itchy when he is alone with the other two. The air is hot and thick; who knew how long they have been at it?

Slowly, Genji turns back around, staring at his brother. Hanzo has his hands on his knees. He sits there as if on a throne… as if nothing were amiss.

As if he weren’t naked, cock so hard it stood up straight enough to nearly touch his heaving belly, brick red and sensitive looking. Genji can even see their father’s cock spearing into Hanzo just beneath the heavy drape of his balls.

Assured that he has Genji’s full attention, Hanzo closes his eyes and slowly lifts himself up. Up. Up… Genji hadn’t known how long their father’s cock is. He hadn’t really speculated on ever finding out. When Hanzo’s rim starts bulging outward, seemingly from the ridge of Sojiro’s dick, he starts to sit back down again. His nostrils are flaring and he takes himself a few seconds after sitting fully back down before opening his eyes and fixing Genji with a hard stare.

“Not even a week, Genji.”

It takes him stupidly long to understand what Hanzo is trying to say. Heat shoots into his head, and indignation flares in his chest.

“What the… what the Hell?! I didn’t think-”

“That we were serious?” Hanzo’s face is so hard, it reminds him of their father. Of those rare occasions he would sit with them during a meeting and stared at Hanzo being the perfect little heir while he tried not to fall asleep.

Only the ruddy red of his cheeks belies the fact that he is fucking himself on dick.

“Or did you think it had been a dream? A hallucination from some bad drugs?”

Hanzo moves again. He lifts up, quicker this time, then sits back down again. He starts to move more steadily; an up and down motion that has his brick red dick bounce in front of him.

He has his eyes closed again, visibly trying to keep himself calm while Genji stands there like a scolded little boy.

“No,” he finally rasps. “We were quite serious, Genji. And you didn’t manage- You… you didn’t-”

Hanzo’s calm exterior cracks. He has to let his head sink back, chest heaving as he sits heavily on daddy’s lap and lets his hips roll now that he got him as deep as humanly possible. Genji can see how the grip he has on his knees becomes white-knuckled as he seems to rub daddy’s cock up on all his favorite places at once.

“Hanzo, I-”

“Silence!”

Hanzo’s voice stutters slightly as he hisses at him, but Genji falls quiet as if with a thunderclap, head sinking to stare at the floor. A scolded little boy indeed.

“A _month_ , Genji! We agreed on a _month_ , and you hadn’t even been able to go a _week_ without fucking up!”

Genji isn’t looking anymore, but he can _hear_ it. Hanzo’s desperate up-and-down along their father’s cock. The slick sound of lube getting displaced as the dick slides back in, probably knocking against his belly button or some shit.

He inhales shakily.

“It’s… it’s not that easy, Hanzo.”

“What is?”

“Not going. I mean… I’ve gone out every night and got drunk and… stuff. I can’t just stop and go cold turkey!”

He looks up now. Hanzo is sneering at him. Their father might as well be non-existent, which makes the whole experience that much more surreal. Sojiro usually commands a room without even trying. Now, Hanzo has all of that authority in his hands. While riding dick, no less.

“If you don’t want this, we can just stop our bargain and find something else,” Hanzo hisses. There’s a clear drop of pre trembling at the tip of his cock. As Genji watches, it slowly starts to drip down onto the floor.

“No! No, that’s not… I thought you were kidding or something, I didn’t-”

“Genji.” Hanzo’s voice sounds a lot calmer now, eyes on his little brother as he keeps circling his hips slowly. As Genji watches, he lets go of his knee and moves his fingers up his body to cup one of his pecs and rub his thumb slow and sensual over the peak of his nipple. “This is on you now… I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. You need to get through a month, little brother. Or… don’t you want me?”

Genji’s insides feel like they are twisting up, mouth agape as he stares at Hanzo making a show for him. Under his wide-eyed stare, another long string of pre-cum drips to the floor.

“No I… I mean yes, I… I mean…” he swallows hard. It feels like it is just the two of them. Like their father doesn’t even exist; his form nothing but a puppet on which Hanzo pleasures himself. “I… do want you. Hanzo… please…”

For the first time, Hanzo seems to almost smile. He leans back, almost slouching, other hand grasping his ruddy red cock. Genji’s only ever seen a color like this when a cockring was involved. It is… honestly impressive.

“Good. You only need to hold out a month, Genji. I really want you too… I want you inside me so badly…”

Genji’s ears are fever hot. He can barely hear Hanzo over the sound of his own heart beat.

Under his eyes. Hanzo starts to jerk himself, his eyes closing and his mouth opening. Genji can see the cock inside him pulsing as his father starts to come, pumping rope after rope of cream into Hanzo’s belly while Hanzo pushes himself fast toward his own orgasm.

The message is clear:

_You can have this. But you need to behave before._

He will try. He really will.


	7. Shimadacest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – Zoom verse – voyeurism/exhibitionism – Genji is being further tormented by himself and his family.
> 
> Prequel: B39F6  
> Sequel: B40F5

Up to two weeks ago, Genji had never even known that Hanzo had such a… special standing within the family. Now he didn’t seem to be able to go a whole day without stumbling over one scene or another. There is no doubt that now they _want_ him to see.

They want to show him what he is missing out and… well. Well. It sure is working. He crawls around the mansion like an unfixed cat, trying not to overhear a needy sigh or rough moan because he knows he’ll have to investigate then.

He can’t get over the sight of Hanzo working cocks like a seasoned whore. He’s thought his big brother was an incurable prude and probably only ever saw a dick when looking into his mirror while getting himself nice and pretty, but damn…

Damn, Hanzo knows how to take care of a fat pipe. There are so many images haunting Genji now…

...And he could have all of it, if he just manages to play along with their rules for a little bit. He could just stay home for a month, pretend he’s a good boy, fuck his big brother until he can’t walk straight anymore, and then go back to his old ways.

It’s easy, right? It sure sounds like it in his head the first three days off the streets before the trembling and the knee bouncing and the general uneasiness sets in.

The mansion is driving him crazy, always has. It’s just too… quiet. Too strict. Now with the added blue balling that they put him through, he just has to get out. Just… just an hour or two. Nobody will know.

Just visit one of the clubs, eat a bowl of ramen, and then go right back to the manor. Slip in where nobody will notice-

But they do notice. Hanzo’s disappointed look is burning through Genji and haunts him into his dreams. His sentence of four weeks has easily become six, just because he can’t manage to stay inside.

… and now Uncle Goro is visiting. Genji can’t find any sleep. He’s jerked off three times already and still his cock is painfully hard, throbbing and aching as he ruts it against his bed, trying not to think about fat Uncle Goro who had been hot for Hanzo since forever.

He knows- He just _knows_ that they are fucking too. That Hanzo is spreading his muscular thighs for their Uncle and gets the ride of his life.

Genji crawls out of bed. There’s nothing to do about it. He just has to see it; as much as he doesn’t want to see Goro naked, he really wants to see Hanzo getting railed by him.

He meets just one of the servants as he aimlessly wanders the manor. He wonders if he looks as sweaty and creepy as he feels because they hastily mumble ‘meeting room 4, sir’ before retreating quickly.

Did everybody know except him? Did Hanzo also fuck the servants just to ensure their loyalty? Did he even do any _other_ work than spreading his legs or offering his throat as a fleshlight?

Genji feels like he’s fallen into some kind of rabbit hole. Into a parallel universe where everything is the complete opposite.

Everything… except his desire for his own brother.

He pushes the door open and just stands there, staring at the scene of Hanzo on his back and Goro’s meaty fists around his ankles, holding them up and far apart as he stares down to where he is easily fucking into his nephew. His gut is rubbing against Hanzo’s cock, nearly smothering it beneath the heavy drape of fat.

Genji… wants him so much. He looks beautiful lying there and breathing in hot little puffs against the back of his hand, glassy eyes up on their Uncle, toes curling and uncurling in the air.

The two don’t notice him until a voice suddenly pipes up to Genji’s right.

“Ah… there you are.”

Goro and Hanzo look up, then over to him. Neither seems shocked or embarrassed. Genji, in turn, stares at Sojiro sitting in a corner and drinking liquor. His dark eyes are clear and cuttingly intelligent. Either he holds his booze pretty well or he’s just really begun.

“I…” Genji slowly wipes his palms against his pants. He realizes he is just wearing his pyjama pants, and that his pulsing erection is perfectly visible through the thin fabric, the tip almost having pushed up past the elastic band.

His father neither seems surprised nor disgusted by the sight. He sighs deeply and stretches his long legs out while Goro continues fucking Hanzo.

“You want him, don’t you?” Sojiro murmurs.

Genji immediately looks back to Hanzo. He is flushed all over; a delicious pink that has started in his chest and spread everywhere. He looks like… he really enjoys this. His work within the clan.

Genji does not answer. He swallows hard, hands slowly curling into fists at his sides, then uncurling again.

Surprisingly enough, Goro speaks up, though he only addresses Hanzo.

“You are an absolute delight… A flower amongst brutes. A haven of pleasure… Hanzo-chan…” He has to pause every few words to heave long, laborious breaths. Genji winces – but Hanzo’s ire just… doesn’t come.

In fact, he smiles close-mouthed, his feverishly glinting eyes thinning like a cat’s in the process.

“Thank you, Uncle Goro.”

He loves it. He loves this. He loves being the absolute center of attention. Of being showered in praise and adoration. It should not come as a surprise to Genji, but it still kind of does.

He’s watched it often enough to know that if Hanzo is being sweet-talked, he’ll unfurl like a flower.

Now that he thinks about it, none of Hanzo’s studs have ever been anything but full of praise. I wonders if that is an open or unspoken rule. Hanzo is the whore of the estate but they treat him like he’s some kind of princess.

Maybe Sojiro’s presence makes sure of it.

Genji stands there like an idiot, watching his brother get railed while his own cock is unattended and starting to dribble pre.

He leans back against the door and rubs both palms over his face. What had he thought would happen? That any of them would suddenly just… realize they have a heart and let Genji fuck Hanzo like a rabbit?

He’s not thinking clearly. This whole scenario is just… fucking him up.

“Genji…”

He lifts his head, staring at Hanzo who is looking right back at him. Goro does not seem to mind; that does not surprise Genji in the least. His small eyes are staring unblinkingly at the sight of Hanzo’s pecs bouncing with every thrust.

“Genji, come here…”

He comes closer like a doll pulled by strings. Hanzo is reaching an arm out towards him, then palms his cock through his pyjama pants. Genji stands stock still, staring down at the sight of his brother’s thumb slowly swiping over the swollen tip.

His brain feels like it is going to ooze out of his ears.

“Genji… please…”

“I am trying,” he whines. “I really am.”

Hanzo sighs. His hand falls away from Genji’s cock, leaving him feeling not only cold but also like a little boy having watched his parents fuck.

Uncle Goro roars like a bear, leaning forward and digging his cock in deep as he unloads in Hanzo’s belly.

Genji just stands there, steaming in his own desire.


	8. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – somnophilia verse – no somnophilia; mostly Bruce perving over what happened; negotiations for more nasty – right what it says on the tin.
> 
> Prequel: B37F7  
> Sequel: B40F11

Three days have gone by and all Bruce has to remind him of Jason is a still sore hole and a camera which he found by accident. He hasn’t been out on patrol since getting… raped? by his former sidekick. He doesn’t feel like a rape victim.

It hasn’t felt like rape. Whatever that would feel like. It had hurt like a bitch, but it had only gotten his dick harder, trapped beneath Jason’s bulk, smelling his musk and listening to his low grunts as he had tried to remain as quiet as possible so Bruce wouldn’t wake.

He’s not sure why Jason thought he could get away with squeezing a big fat cock up Bruce’s backdoor and think that wouldn’t wake him – and he is even less sure why it had taken him until Jason had been a good way inside him, burning his way along his passage.

It’s all pretty unclear, if he is being honest. Until he watches the tape, that is. He spends an ungodly amount of hours that first day, sitting in his cave and watching the footage on his huge screen, cock out and just one finger tickling his swollen, burning hole; one ear always on the alarm, scared Alfred might show up.

Jerking off like a goddamn teen in his own home.

The third day he spends sitting and brooding. He wonders whether Jason will come back. Doesn’t he want to get his camera? Had Bruce gone too far when he had been tempted and… turned tables on him?

He’s obsessing over it, he knows, but he can’t stop thinking about the night. That world of pleasure that Jason had suddenly opened up for him. It’s a door that he can’t close again. He’s stared at his large utility flashlight and started wondering whether he could actually manage to cram it up his backside just to get a fraction of the pleasure Jason had given him by rudely grunt fucking into his body and nearly suffocating him in the process.

He hadn’t given any regards to Bruce’s comfort. It shouldn’t be this hot. It really shouldn’t.

The thought that Jason might not come back, that Bruce has scared him off for good, is putting him in a worse and worse mood the more days pass.

Alfred asks him once or twice whether he doesn’t want to go out on patrol, but Bruce’s replies have been so curt that he must have decided to just leave him be, because Bruce can’t remember having seen the old man in quite a while now.

He doesn’t change his security details. He even leaves his terrace door open. He sleeps naked and with the blankets thrown just over his legs. He does anything to entice Jason to come back, except putting his ass up like a bitch that’s asking for it.

Still he needs to wait almost a week before Jason finally comes back. The alure of the tape is stronger than whatever had made him flee in the morning.

Bruce’s heart starts to beat faster as he listens to the steps sneaking closer to where the camera had been hidden. Only when Jason is almost at the spot does he sit up. The moonlight from outside is bright enough to easily make the two of them visible.

Jason whirls around when he hears the sound of fabric sliding, and springs creaking. They stare at each other mute. Jason looks like a skittish animal close to just bolting despite being stone faced. He’s not wearing any gear as far as Bruce can tell. Instead, he’s just in some sweatpants and a hoodie. It makes Bruce wonder once more how the kid even managed to get in here in the first place without triggering any of his state-of-the-art alarms.

“If you are looking for the tape…” Jason winces slightly. Bruce can’t be sure in the silver light of the moon but Jason’s cheeks seem to become a bit more flushed. “...It’s over here.”

He reaches behind himself without taking his eyes off of Jason and slips his hand beneath the pillow. He drags a thumb drive out and holds it up for Jason to see. Jason doesn’t say anything. He sticks his hands deep into his pockets and slouches over, staring steadily at Bruce. He looks all the more like a recalcitrant teen, even though he is anything but.

For Bruce he’ll always be the kid he got off the streets from stealing tires. He doesn’t know if that makes his obsession with Jason even worse.

“Did you watch it?”

It startles him that Jason suddenly does talk, but he takes it in stride. He slowly curls his hand around the drive and says quietly: “Yes… a couple times actually.”

Jason inhales sharply but he still doesn’t run.

“I want it back, B.”

“Understandable.” Bruce swallows hard and licks his lips. “I’ll give it to you. I just want something in return.

Jason sneers, shoulders pulling up further to his ears. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?”

“You came to me in the first place. I didn’t make you do anything,” Bruce reminds him. He opens his hand again to show off the incentive in his palm. Jason visibly grits his teeth. For a moment it looks like he will just storm out without taking the bait but he calms himself again, face smoothing out into his usual mask. He stands up a bit straighter again.

“What do you want.”

Bruce’s mouth is so dry he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get a word out, but somehow he can do so anyway.

“Fuck me.”

“...What?”

He bites the tip of his tongue and breathes in and out slowly.

“Give it to me. Like you did the other night.”

Jason snorts, obviously disbelieving.

“You want me to rape you.”

“Yes- I mean… no.” He pulls a face then slowly starts to turn, heart thrumming in his chest. He goes on all fours, knees spread, showing off his lack of underwear.

“Just do it. The drive will be yours.”

He can hear the slide of skin on skin and the rasp of stubble as Jason probably drags his palm over his chin.

“You’re a sick man, B.”

“I am. Yes…”

He lowers his head, eyes clenched shut, hoping…

He can feel the bed dip slightly behind him.


	9. Shane/Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane/Eggs (Stardew Valley) – oviposition; public; ahegao – Those eggs he stuffed himself with have to come out eventually...
> 
> Prequel: B38F11  
> Sequel: B40F12

He can do it. He can. He just needs to get the morning over and then use the bathroom in his break. Nobody will know anything had even been amiss.

Shane is squatting in front of the shelves, slowly restocking one item at a time. He doesn’t focus on what he is doing – just on keeping his ass clenched tight so none of the eggs he pushed into his body would start to pop out of him right here right now.

The boss would be furious if he saw how slow he was working, but as so often he is almost alone on his shift. Nobody here to call him out on being a lazy asshole, except…

“Excuse me, sir? I am looking for the tomatoes…”

He slowly lifts his gaze to the lady standing next to him. He doesn’t know what his face looks like but she gets a weird expression. She doesn’t ask, thankfully.

He inhales and exhales, trying to calm himself to some form of civility as he looks her up and down. She is dressed so goddamn fancy he wonders if she ever has been in a mall all by herself. She looks like she should have a million servants to do that dirty work for her.

Come to think… what is someone like her doing in the dumps?

“We are on the drive through the country side…” she says haltingly as if she had guessed exactly what was going through his head. He kind of spaces out after that. It’s none of his business anyway.

He slowly stands, white noise filling his head as the motion has the eggs inside his guts shifting, a small cramp hitting him and nearly making him bear down on the… foreign objects.

Sweat springs to his forehead. He can’t just… like… shit an egg in front of her. The thought makes him feel faint, but his stupid dick chubs up a little. No. No no no. This is not going to happen.

The lady is looking very concerned now; like she is about to just flee the mall.

Shane clears his throat. 

“Yeah… yeah, tomatoes. That way…”

.o.

Tending to that rich lady and her mega purchase takes longer than he expected. His break comes and goes and then some. By the time he is finally by himself again, his shift only lasts for another hour anyway. It’s crazy.

He managed to forget the eggs in his guts a few times, but they’ve made themselves known pretty quickly again and again… more pressing each time.

Shane leaves a few minutes early. Fuck the guy that works the shift after him. He needs home. He needs the bathroom. He needs to get _rid_ of those goddamn _eggs_ inside him!

He tries to walk like nothing is amiss, but his knees start to feel week around the time he is behind Penny’s trailer. He is sweating like a pig, his shirt already soaked. Next to a tree a cramp hits him yet again and he has to pause, bracing himself on the trunk as he doubles over and clutches his abdomen, pure panic coursing through him as he wonders if he is going to soil his pants right now. Right next to Pierre’s.

Maru walks by and throws him the same kind of weirded out look that the rich lady had thrown him, but she, too, knows better than to talk to him. He’s been enough of a grumpy ass to everyone that they mostly just leave him alone (thank fuck).

“It’s so close,” he whispers, voice strained. He can already see the roof of Marnie’s farm over the trees. He just needs to cross the plaza and he’ll be there in a jiffy… “It’s so close!” he whines, insides hot and crampy, and… god… he won’t manage. He just won’t.

Panic courses through him as he looks around. He has to hide. He has to get away so nobody’ll see him in his shame! A heavy cramp wrecks his body and his sphincter loosens enough that one of the eggs can slide down enough to fill his entrance.

It is then that the panic is replaced by a sudden, disturbing clarity. He will birth those eggs. Right now. Right here. His only option is the tree he is leaning on and the bit of shrubbery around it.

Nobody is here for now – so Shane uses his moment of luck to dive behind the tree and into the bushes. As he starts to open his pants with trembling hands, the egg begins to slide further down, stretching his hole. He pushed them all in with the tip first, so now he has to deal with the fattest parts filling him first and foremost.

Sweat is dripping down his forehead and from the tip of his nose. He is barely hidden behind the greenery but there’s nothing to do about it. Maybe nobody would see. Or maybe someone would see him squatting there and would tell everybody that Shane is a goddamn disgusting pervert that shits in the middle of town.

He… is beyond a point of caring – especially when he finally wrenches his pants down to around his thighs and the first egg just drops out of him. It’s such an easy slide; the smooth shell barely puts up any resistance as it glides past his swollen hole. He can hear the gentle thump of it falling into the grass.

Relief swamps him. Oh God… Oh God, one is out… He puts his head in his neck and sobs in elation. He is almost about to hug the trunk of the tree when he hears voices and steps. His head snaps first upright, then his brain kicks back in and he hunkers further down to be hidden in the bushes.

The motion naturally has the next egg sliding down and deliciously filling his burning, hungry passage. His cock is hard. It does not have any qualms about any of this. The fabric it is trapped in is tacky with pre-cum. His balls are swollen.

As Alex and Sebastian walk past him, he births another of the eggs; this one slower than the first, his hole clinging on as if trying to make it last as long as possible. He presses a trembling hand in front of his mouth, trying to not make a single goddamn sound as he lays an egg a mere meter away from two guys that have no idea he is squatting in the bushes.

Another egg fills his ass. The details of how many he has stuffed inside him have become vague over the course of the day. How long would he have to squat here? Would it take minutes? Hours?

His body does not know what to do. He feels nauseous but also horny in a way that he hasn’t since the depression has set in full force. His cock is a baseball bat in his pants, weeping mercilessly, tip pulsing in time with his heart beat.

When he drops the third egg, his eyes roll up into his head, tongue lolling out as he comes silent and intense, pulsing out cum right into his underwear. Tears rolling down his cheeks from how intense it is.

And still another egg seems to fill him.


	10. Hank/Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank/Connor – testicle appreciation; body odor appreciation – Connor loves Hank just... so much...

“Boy… I’m trying to watch the game…”

“But you can, Hank. I don’t mind.”

“S a bit difficult with you keepin’ on prodding and tugging…”

“Well if you would just-”

Hank groans when he realizes that Connor is just going to keep prodding and tugging and _arguing_ until he’ll do what the damn cyborg wants, so for the sake of being able to watch the game in peace and not be subject to Connor’s passive-aggressive little sighs of frustration throughout, he shifts until he is more on his back, lifting one leg and throwing it over the backrest of the couch.

Opening himself up for as much goddamn exploration as the kid wants. Holy shit. He flushes and rubs a big hand over his face, then takes a quick sip of beer just to squish down the spike of embarrassment.

He glances down as he feels Connor shifting to be better curled on the other end of the couch and sees his way too smug and way too pretty face. God _damn_ he is gorgeous. And young looking. There are freckles on his beardless, handsome face; he must have downloaded them all new or something; Hank is eighty percent sure they hadn’t been there yesterday.

Connor’s big brown eyes flick up to him, his candy mouth stretching into a stupidly sly little grin. How he manages to still look dorky despite it is beyond Hank. The kid learned just… way too quickly, so it had to be deliberate at this point.

“You’re not watching your game, Lieutenant.”

Hank groans and reaches down, roughly shoving on Connor’s head and mussing up his perfect hair in the process.

“Shut up… don’t know what you’re grinning about anyway. Got an eye full of my hairy old ass and saggy balls. Not what I’d call a good time.”

“It’s a perfectly good time in my opinion,”Connor says with the tranquility of a Buddha. His large brown eyes turn down to look at Hank’s junk, and Hank, flustered, takes another swig of his beer and quickly turns his head to stare at the TV.

Connor, knowing well how to behave during a ‘game night’ remains quietly smug and goes about his business without his incessant babbling for once.

In Hank’s peripherie he is somewhat aware of the LED on Connor’s head circling a constant calm blue. It starts to speed up the moment he feels the smooth, artificially warmed-up plastic hand cradle his low hanging sack.

Connor’s long-fingered hand slowly moves; rubbing the heel against the swell of his testicles to feel the rasp of the hair against his synthetic skin… then starts moving them to lightly move the weight around in the loose sack. Hank inhales deeply, eyes going heavy lidded. He stares at the beginning of the game but really can’t pay too much attention. He’s nowhere near hard yet but getting his junk fondled by a pretty thing like Connor is… nice. Really nice.

Every time he glances down he can see Connor’s face over the swell of his beer gut: content and happy and slightly flushed from his systems having started up his… his horniness routine or whatever the heck it is called.

Under normal circumstances the kid would be incessantly babbling about how perfectly nice and maybe a bit above average size-wise Hank’s balls would be, and he’d hate every second of it because it made him feel stupidly embarrassed, but… he still kind of wants it. Just to be reassured.

Connor doesn’t talk though because it is game night, and Hank is an old self-conscious fat man that can’t make himself ask for it, so he stays suckling on his one measly beer and focuses more and more of his attention on Connor having the time of his life playing with his saggy old pair of balls.

It’s not long before he feels Connor’s mouth; perfectly warm and wet. An absolute crowning achievement in technology. Hank’s eyes close and his face twists up as if he were hurt. He is anything but. Connor’s slick little tongue laves at the lower swell of his right nut. He then opens up wider, trying to completely suck it into his mouth.

There’s a hint of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, then he is distracted by the feeling of Connor’s clever fingers tickling the hairy crack of his ass.

“Goddamn,” Hank groans, chest heaving again as he takes a deep breath. He slowly puts the bottle down on the ground. His fingers are suddenly shaking a little and he doesn’t want to make a mess by spilling it.

He slowly reaches down and rubs thick fingers through Connor’s no-longer-perfect hair. He can _feel_ him hum as he still tries to somehow get his nut sucked into his mouth.

Hank lifts his head, making an effort to peer down over his gut to watch Connor; his smooth, freckled body curled up beautifully on the lower end of the couch. He doesn’t have much space at all what with Hank taking up most of it, but he seems more than content. He looks like a pretty little pet, his thighs lightly rubbing against one another; probably to stimulate that perfect peach pink cock and his tight, hairless balls.

Connor got a set of testicles right out of a magazine – probably ah… literally – and Hank has no idea why he thinks his old, low hangers are anything to write home about, but…

Connor pulls back with a wet slurp. His face has flushed a fetching shade of red, his mouth wet and hanging open as he keeps gathering Hank’s sac in the palm of his hand and weighs it there; the heft of it. The play he has due to the loose skin…

As Hank watches, Connor leans in, pressing his open mouth against his balls and taking a deep… sniff.

“Oh…” Connor breathes soft and small like some Victorian lad. Hank does a double take, wondering if he saw and heard correctly, but Connor does it again: he inhales and makes that little ‘oh’ sound; this time more pronounced.

“The Hell you’re doing, boy?” Hank rasps, his whole body starting to grow warmer.

“You smell so… strong here…”

“You can’t-”

Connor’s brown puppy eyes flick up to look at him. His software has the ‘glassy fucked out gaze’ look down to perfection.

“I have… installed an upgrade…”

“You have- Oh my… God, Connor. What the _Hell_?!”

Connor shrugs. He leans in again and closes his eyes. Hank’s fat old dick is smearing against his perfect, smooth forehead. He’s hot as all fuck for this goddamn twink but they have to play it by his body’s rules. It takes a while these days for his dick to get hard; and even longer for him to come, which… is not that bad, really. At least he can drill Connor for a few hours until he finally and truly is sated.

Not the point right now, though. Because Connor keeps goddamn _huffing_ his balls and groaning like it’s the best thing he’s done in ages.

“Hank…” he rasps, voice deeper and a little glitched. He moves, seemingly restless for some reason. One hand is grabbing Hank’s thigh, fingers digging in hard. Connor inhales again, his body doing an undulation as if he wants to crawl up Hank’s body like a tree.

“Hank, you smell so _strong_ here!”

There’s some dumb quip to be made about Connor trying to tell him he stinks, but it dies in his throat before he can make it because the kid looks so goddamn _out of it_ that it takes his breath away.

He looks cum-dumb just from feeling and sucking and smelling Hank’s balls.

He got a stupid fucking software installed so he could get high on the stink of Hank’s fucking nuts.

“Crazy piece of plastic,” he groans, thick fingers rubbing lovingly against his scalp. “Fuck.”

Connor hums as if in confirmation.


	11. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – old men in love; foreskin appreciation; docking – Jack gets to rambling thoughts in his old days. When it is about Gabriel he just can’t think straight. He is all over the place.

Things always start innocent enough. One of them gets naked – these days usually just to bathe or change clothes… nothing as wild as they did in their days as active soldiers – and the other would just stop what they were doing and… _look_.

Jack is not a pervert… he likes to think, but he gets the feeling that more often than not he is the aggressor; getting all antsy and into it when he sees Gabriel walking around naked without a care in the world, cock swinging heavily between his thick thighs. Stretching his body to get something from an upper shelf, all his muscles in delicious definition-

No, Jack is not the pervert. _Gabriel_ is. He knows exactly what he is doing; showing himself off blatantly to his husband and then complaining whenever Jack assaults him and drags him to the nearest surface to spend the rest of the day sweaty and exhausted…

He’d always thought that his particular obsession with Gabriel’s foreskin is something that was just that… _his particular obsession_. But after retiring from Overwatch and finally spending more than just a few days in the same spot as Gabriel, he starts to wonder whether that still is the case.

Gabriel’s hand will wander while they laze around, pushing into Jack’s sweats to grasp his cock and just idly hold it. There’ll not even be any intent about it; just his fingers lightly brushing over the silky skin and squeezing down just a tad to feel how soft and spongy the flesh is.

Until he’ll inevitably start to play with Jack’s foreskin. It’s not as loose and long as Gabriel’s own, but he still seems just drawn to it. His thick, slightly rough fingertips delicately pinching the pudgy skin and pulling on it or trying to slip inside the wrinkled opening while Jack is still soft… and inevitably getting harder rather quickly.

There’s nothing to be done about it; Jack can tolerate getting his cock played with; even his goddamn balls – but his foreskin for whatever reason always gets him going.

Gabriel _knows_.

And still he does it.

So… maybe his particular obsession isn’t just _his_ particular obsession after all. In any case, it doesn’t matter. He’s too old to feel embarrassed about anything in front of Gabriel. They’ve seen each other in the most embarrassing, compromising situations and still can’t leave their hands off one another. So one more weird kink wouldn’t break the camel’s back.

Things always start innocent enough. One of them gets naked, and the other stops and looks. _Stares_.

This time it is Jack, but they are interchangable, really.

Gabriel has a magnificent body. Curvaceous. He’s spent many a night quietly thanking whoever was out there for the wide hips and small waist that he could hold on to so very nicely as he fucked him from behind – rally laying it into him, making him go hoarse with-

Oh, but his cock. His _cock_.

His foreskin is long and silky; long enough that even when he’s so hard he starts to make those little whining sounds it still covers the tip and crowns it in a little slip of skin that Jack just wants to tonguefuck _so badly_...

Jack is the aggressor this time. He grabs Gabriel and pushes him down. It is difficult sometimes to keep focusing in the moment and not start to become all sentimental on his husband. How desperately he loves him. His body. How desperately he wants to just… eat him up.

Jack lies between Gabriel’s thighs and holds his growing erection like it is something sacred. He stares up into Gabriel’s face when he just thinks ‘fuck it’ and goes for it; slurping the generous slip of foreskin into his mouth, tongue immediately searching for the opening.

Gabriel’s whole body seems to first flinch, then surge, his face going somewhat slack as he stares down at Jack.

“What the fuck-”

He never finishes his question. Jack has found and somehow managed to wriggle his way into the wrinkled opening. He manages to touch the tip of his tongue to Gabriel’s crown exactly once before the cock in his grip swells too fast and he fumbles it.

Still, the burst of salt lingers on his tongue. Gabriel is panting, one hand starting to roughly card through Jack’s thin, receding hair.

“The Hell, Jackie? What kinda porn did you watch this time?!”

None. None. He didn’t watch any. All the porn he needs is Gabriel’s body. He feels impossibly hot, cheeks pounding with the beat of his hard, tongue lolling out of his mouth wet and obscene. He wants to tell Gabriel to stop pretending; that he knows just how obsessed he is with this as well, but he can’t seem to make his brain work properly.

Gabriel gets over it himself, in any case. His cock is swollen and dragging against Jack’s cheek. The little slip of foreskin at the tip smearing against the corner of his eye.

There’s a mischievous expression entering Gabriel’s face. His dark eyes are glinting, grin a little wobbly but earnest when he rasps: “Hey wanna… wanna try something out?”

Yes. Yes he wants.

During the many years of their relationship, they had fallen in and out of being embarrassed with one another. At first it had been youth, then it had been their hazardous occupations, and then it had been their age.

These days, nothing seems to really rattle them anymore, even if it is one sitting on the lap of the other and both trying with the utmost focus to get the tip of Jack’s cock wrapped in Gabriel’s foreskin.

And it feels _good_ to not have to worry anymore. To know without a shadow of a doubt that Gabriel will always be desperately into him despite Jack not being anywhere near as hot as Gabriel is.

They kiss when they finally have somewhat managed to get things going where they want them to be. Their hands are tightly entwined around the junction where Jack’s tip is slipped into Gabriel’s foreskin, and he can’t help but feel like them kissing slow and heavy is not unlike that.

Gabriel’s tongue is pushing into Jack’s mouth, calm and dominant, their lips dragging against each other nice and wet. The friction makes Jack’s head spin.

Or maybe it is the weird sensation of their tips kissing up to each other like that.

They’ve been together for so long, and they never tried to touch each other in this way… how weird, isn’t it?

Jack can’t keep his hips from twitching, causing their tips to lightly rub against each other. They pull away from their kiss with hisses, eyes clenched shut tightly, bodies rigid.

There’s a weird dissonance in Jack’s brain telling him for some reason that it _should_ be a painful sensation – when it is anything but. His body feels fritzed. He almost lets himself sink back on his ass, but that would have destroyed their intimate connection.

Gabriel’s fingers suddenly gripping so hard it hurt has him jerk back into position. They stare at each other, panting like dogs while Jack feels weirdly snug and warm inside Gabriel’s foreskin.

“I’m gonna come,” he whispers earnestly, his lower body prickling, balls ready to shoot.

Gabriel looks for a second like he wants to tell him to keep his shit together, but then his face becomes very soft and vulnerable as well, his chest heavin.

“Me too… fuck-”

“Can we... can we do this again?”

Gabriel lets his head fall back. There’s a sneer on his face, but his voice is all high and wheezing when he rasps: “Of course you dumb bastard!” – before he starts coming in low pulses all around Jack’s tip.

They are a glorious two seconds before everything gets way too slippery to keep the connection up, and Jack too begins to cum-

head so full and yet so empty.

Blessed.


	12. Shane/Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane/Charlie (Chicken) – Stardew Valley – animal fucc; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT – Look at the chars and the tags and only read if u r ok with them pwease :)

Shane wakes out of his alcohol induced slumber with a snort and a flail. Everything is still slowly tilting on its axis and for a heart stopping second he anticipates rolling off a ledge and right into water.

Neither of it is happening; instead he can feel the sharp sensation of something digging into his thighs. His limbs are also weirdly….. bound up? Or something? It is hard to think.

He blinks and slowly stares at the old cobwebb-y ceiling of the chicken coop. He knows that one by heart, and it calms him instantly. It’s dark, only the bright light of the moon illuminating things through the grimy windows. It reminds him that he really needs to clean them again, even though the chickens spend most of their time outside in these warmer months.

His aching eyes slowly look around the barn. Here and there are the warm, round bodies of the ladies; fluffed up and sitting in their nests as they sleep and prepare to lay their eggs. To be waking up in the coop is so comforting that his whole body relaxes. Even the throb of his head seems to recede instantly.

Shane then looks down and sees a blanket has been thrown over him. Ah…

He vaguely remembers falling asleep in the coop after taking a sixpack of beer with him from work and probably drinking most of it, if not all, on the way back here. Aunt Marnie must have found him passed out on the floor. Damn. But it is better than falling asleep on the pier.

There still is a lingering fear that he might roll into the water one day…

He shifts a bit. Everything is toasty warm. Blearily he realizes that he’s got a hard-on.

“The Hell…” he mutters. God, he thought he’d gone all but impotent what with the alcohol and his constant bad moods. But here he is; abdomen nice and warm and cock pulsing slowly in his underwear.

He sighs. Tonight is shaping up to become better and better. He should just seize the moment and rub one out real quick before finally dragging himself back into his actual bed for a couple hours of sleep.

He slips both hands beneath the blanket; then encounters a warm, feathery little body. His brain lags behind; it takes him stupidly long to figure out that he got a chicken sitting on his lap.

Shane lightly lifts the blanket and peers underneath. He can’t see much, but he knows that it is Charlie that has somehow crawled beneath his blanket. Or maybe she had slept on his lap even before Aunt Marnie had come in? Who knew…

“Come on, Charlie…” he whispers, trying to gently scoop her up to deposit her next to him – but she is digging her talons into his jeans and hunkers down even more.

It is like she thinks his warm, slowly pulsing cock is an egg that needs hatching. His ears start to grow hot. He’s vaguely surprised that they aren’t glowing in the dark.

“Charlie… gimme a second, alright? Damn…” He manages to slip a hand beneath her, palm pressing against her soft, warm belly to lift her up and put her next to him where she blearily blinks at him and stretches her neck to peck at his sleeve. She is _not_ amused about being woken in the middle of the night. He murmurs something apologetic but he doesn’t think he managed to string together actual words.

He looks down again and awkwardly opens the button of his jeans. He misses Charlie’s warmth somewhat if he is being honest. His cock doesn’t seem to mind, though. It practically leaps into his palm as he stuffs his hand down his underwear. It’s warm and silky and he can feel his heartbeat in the thick vein along the bottom.

Shit, it’s been so long since he got to jerk it… maybe he’s forgotten how it works?

He snorts softly. Nah. Don’t forget shit like that. He rubs his calloused thumb over the head and hisses when the skin catches at the sensitive tip. He wishes he got some slick in here, but he won’t get up to get it, either. He’ll just have to deal with it.

Before he can deal with anything, though, Charlie is back in the mix. There is a flutter and a low cluck, and the chicken is back on his lap, sitting her warm, feathery body down on his cock and wriggling around like she’s in there for the long haul.

Shane hisses. He tries to move her with the hand she is now sitting on, but Charlie’s talons dig in deep; like she wants to make sure she is _not_ removed this time.

He pulls his hand out from beneath her. His cock is slowly flexing, pulsing, snuggled into the soft feathers of her belly.

Oh, this is wrong. This is wrong and bad and everything in between.

“Charlie, come on,” he whispers. He’s trying to move her, but all he manages to do is make her slip along his cock, sparks of sensation racing along his spine. Up and down and right into his extremities…

“O… Okay…” He doesn’t want to get too rough with her. He doesn’t want to get rough with them at all. Any of them. He _loves_ his chickens.

But that doesn’t help his cock any. It’s still stubbornly hard. It’s like he can feel Charlie’s little chicken heart thumping against the tip. He presses a hand over his eyes and groans; the other is on her back, nervously petting her feathers.

“This is no good, Charlie,” he whispers, but she doesn’t answer… of course.

He’s stuck, and all his aching brain can come up with is to slowly move; fucking against her. Trying to push the throbbing tip of his cock into her feathers.

His hand is moving down her back slowly, grasping her tail. He stares down, watching himself lightly bend her tail feathers up so he can see the little hole hidden between those tiny little feathers there.

He reaches down slowly while his hips keep doing a weird little upwards undulation, rubbing against her belly. This is all bad and disgusting, but he can’t stop himself…

Shane touches that little hole. It feels so silky soft… he can’t believe that she presses eggs out of it daily. It’s way too small…

His cock pulses again. He’s pretty sure he’s getting pre-cum onto Charlie’s feathers, and all she does in response to him feeling her up and using her as a warm little fleshlight is to coo so low and satisfied as if she were purring.

He wonders… he wonders just in the privacy of his mind…

if she could easily make that little hole spread around her eggs… would she mind if he were to make it spread around his cock? Would it hurt her? Would she notice much? His cheeks are as hot as his ears. Everything is pounding thick and fast with the beating of his heart. His cock jerks, pushing right into the thick belly down she has while his thumb is starting to round her little hole like its a pussy.

He can feel it lightly moving against him. It seems almost… He knows it is not, but it still feels like… like she’s begging for it.

“Fuck… Fuck, shit,” he whispers, his temples aching more fiercely with his hangover as he barrels toward orgasm wondering how it would be to gently clasp Charlie’s warm, round body… press her wings to her rump; maybe hold her little chicken legs as well to not have her accidentally scratch him as he carefully nudges his way into her…

He’s the worst kind of pervert. Disgusting. Horrible. But he can’t stop thinking of it. In his mind she is even hotter inside than she is trying to hatch his goddamn dick. All those muscles for pressing out the eggs pushing down on his shaft.. on his sensitive, swollen crown…

Her fluttery heart beat felt everywhere…

Shane’s head sinks back. He groans low and mighty as he comes, pulsing his thick load into her feathers.

He’ll need to clean her. Oh God, he’ll need to clean her… but fuck… fuck, this orgasm is racing into every nerve end, leaving him feel blitzed and out of it and stupidly happy.

Shit...


End file.
